


Heavy and Open

by PrincipalCellist



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, But the story just didn't flow right in 3rd POV, Everyone hates 1st person POV, Fluff, I know, I mostly wanted to write Victor talking about his feelings I think, I will protect them with my life, I'm trying to tag this but I honestly don't know what to say, M/M, Not sure what point this takes place?, Yuuri is precious and needs to be protected, especially from himself, so OH WELL, so it's like I'm just rambling to myself now, sometime after their first kiss on the ice, these ice skating homos are running my life, this relationship is 10/10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 11:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10966599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincipalCellist/pseuds/PrincipalCellist
Summary: It always felt so natural to talk to Victor about things; nothing specific, just talking - back and forth like the gentle tide. The soft thread dangling between them was new to Yuuri, it was sudden and yet so complete. Victor pushed and he pulled, a dance that Yuuri somehow knew but didn't remember learning.And though he craved and cherished the intimacy between them, it frightened him. Because if it was real, that means he could lose it - and that was worse than never having it at all.





	Heavy and Open

I close my eyes to stop the coming tears. Despite everything, here I had hoped things would be different. Here, on the shore where we'd first met halfway, the special beach that we owned, I thought that I would be able to look into myself and suddenly be granted a deep unshakable truth. That I would stop seeing my flaws. That desire would somehow make me lovely, would transform me from a sparrow to a peacock; as vivid and mystical and _beautiful_ off the ice as I was on it.

"Why?" My voice trips over the jagged edge of my sorrow. "Why do you want me?

"I've answered this before, Yuuri, I--"

"Yes, _yes_ \- I've heard it before, I know. You love the music in me. You love the raw passion hidden deep in my veins. My soul is a beautiful thing. And once I give you myself, entire, you'll--" I hiccup, "--you'll give me yourself, entire."

"Oh, but I already have." He says, no question, but it doesn't stop my stomach from curling in on itself. The anxiety of all the things I never say, the things I never do.

"You haven't!" I snap, in a real mood now--for a fight. Not even I knew exactly what I want or what I expect, so how could I think he did? But still I struggled, always wanting the things it seemed I couldn’t have, and I have struggled for so long that I couldn’t believe it when I finally did get the things I craved.

"Tell me; what do you wish to hear?"

"The truth instead of a pretty lie," I decide. "Because everything you've said means nothing to a silly, pathetic man."

Footprints dent into the sand as he crosses the space between us, curling a hand around the back of my neck, pulling me in so we are touching forehead-to-forehead. "Enough. You are absolutely none of that. Loveliness of the spirit is worth far more than loveliness of the flesh, true, but it doesn't matter because you have both."

"Now that," I say, pulling my face from his. "was a very pretty lie."

For a moment, I think he will try to console me, as if with a child, but a spark lights his eyes. His mouth twists, not quite smile, not quite sneer.

"I want you because you are different. I want you because, despite everything, you still believe you are unworthy. Because a man could spend an age with a line of endless, beautiful brides, their names and faces blurring before him. Because you - 'silly, pathetic' you - I will remember." He drops his hand from my head and my blood rises to color my face.

"I lived in tedium unending before, dying a little more every season, unable to really feel anything but a hollow, missing part of myself. Dreaming of a day I found a truer meaning to my life than just the ice. But I saw nothing ahead of me until you. When you failed so spectacularly, then crashed into my life, dancing like you had something to prove, challenging anyone like there was a promise you still needed to keep. I thought I had walls, but you knocked them down in a single flourish of your hand. You led me over the floor and touched me as if I were precious. And then you were gone, as if I had only drempt you up, until I saw you skate my routine, my soul-song. _Stammi vicino, non te ne andare..."_

"You carried that performance in your own hands, treated it as if it was something reverent that you were wrongly imposing upon. But I was not mad that you took it. You made it something new." He walks around me in a slow circle, almost appraising. "You called to me, Yuuri. You _called._ In a voice so scared, a voice so soft...but I heard it. And I answered. I came for you. And I found more than just the music you created with your body... your intensity, your ferocity; I crave it, Yuuri. I do."

"I spent a long time fearing what was to come with my future, after all was said and done and I retired, what would I have, who would I be, if I did not have the ice? The one place I could scream and laugh and do whatever I wanted so long as I won? But winning was starting to mean nothing to me, too. I couldn't keep up. I couldn't keep surprising the audience because I always won, even before I skated. I wanted to feel something new and fresh again, and I thought I never would, until I watched you and I heard your music. For the first time in so long, I hoped--I thought--"

A silence falls over us, thick with things he couldn't describe. I could taste the questions at the back of my throat, but I swallow them down, wanting to hear the rest - knowing I would do anything if it meant he never stopped speaking. Anything to get him to stay.

"Your music kept me sane. Kept me fighting." He says at last. A breeze raises goosebumps along my arms and down my back. He finally looks at me again, hopeful. "And that is the truth, Yuuri. I could have your hand in marriage, have your mind and body, but what I truly want, you cannot seem to give. You are too scared. And I don't know why. I cannot reach you."

I raise shaking fingers to his face, pushing his hair back gently. His eyes widen in surprise, some pleasure, and a little wariness. "I can be sensitive, I know," I whisper, "but I can be brave, too."

"Yes, Yuuri." He breathes, like there was nothing he wanted more than for me to be brave and shine the way he knew I could. I can see his body bend in a long sigh. He brings his hand up over mine and guides it down to rest against the column of his neck.

"Victor, what--" I try to pull away, unsure, but he has me in his grip. He leans into me, daring, tempting. He wants the thing inside me, the monster that always makes me hesitate and fidget and think too much. He wants the hunger inside me that can obliterate, if only I knew how to overcome myself. If only I could let the fire rage.

"You are the monster I claim," he says, as if reading my thoughts.

I am trembling now. "You don't know what you're asking." Panic touches my words, even as I try to seem tough. "I run myself in loops, I don't know what I could do to you. You don't--"

"Oh, but I do."

"I could hurt you. Even if I don't mean to, I could."

"I know."

"Then _why_ , Victor?" I murmur, still not understanding why, how he could choose me so openly, so willingly. When I was like _this_ and he was so very beautiful.

"Because," he chokes out, "you're what I want." A long, shuddering sigh escapes me. My hand moves to his shoulder, clenching and unfurling again, unsure whether to draw him close or push him away. "I need you to find me, Yuuri. Every last bit of me. I need you to start, not just follow. I need you to want it as much as I do."

"Vitya..." I breathe, and he sucks in a sharp breath. "Please, have mercy on me."

"I am not afraid."

I chuckle, low and watery, closing my eyes. "You are a fool."

"Ah, but only the fools get to fall in love, yes?"

When I open my eyes again, the austere man is gone. Our lips meet in a clash of mouths and tongue. The whole beach falls away, and we fall together, he and I. We land on a soft bed of sand that shifts with every twitch of our limbs, every sigh of our bodies, and the world around us feels dark, secret and safe. His hands hold my face, pulling me in as though he could drink in my breath, my life. And I take comfort in knowing that only I knew how he kissed like he wanted to consume. He feels certain and sure, so much that I am left artless and awkward. My hands push at his back, pressing him close, wanting to feel every bit of him against me like a second skin. The sand finds its way under my shirt, and I itch and I sting and I burn.

 _Find my edges,_ I plead, _then obliterate them._

I tear at the hem of his coat, find the buttons and seams with my fingers. His skin is cool against mine as I tug it off, and I should've known he would be. Skating and ice is so deeply engraved into his life, it was as much a part of him as it was me. Of course he'd taste just like winter. The thrill of his touch sends shivers through me, and I start peeling up my own shirt, wanting to shuck it like a snake would discard it's old skin, leaving nothing but the impression of the body that once inhabited it. I wanted to be made anew.

 _Stop,_ He breathes, hands clasping mine, but his mouth not pulling away. I don't stop. I don't know how to stop. I only know how to charge full speed at the things I wanted, I didn't know how to be soft during a moment like this. I was afraid that if I stopped, I would never be able to start again, so I finish working my arms out of my sleeves.

I tilt my head to kiss him more, and he follows, warming to my breath. We grasp at each other, gasping between kisses, breathing around tongues. We hold each other close, but it's not close enough. Our hands map the hills and valleys of our bodies, adventuring, discovering. The fingers of his hand runs up my thigh, grabbing me, and I gasp, tangling my hands in his silver hair, pulling his mouth down to me again, wanting to drown.

 _Yuratchka._  A sudden shift in tone. He pins my wandering hands beneath his forearm, the weight of his body heavy above me. But it's not the weight of him that brings my breath short; it's the look in his pale eyes. I see my coach, the strictness he only uses when I am not listening to his instructions out on the ice, and suddenly I am embarrassed of my eagerness -  how willing I was to make a fool of myself. I turn my gaze away, cheeks burning. The hand that reaches up to touch my face is cool, and Victor is gentle. _Look at me._

I look, and he's there, waiting for me to realize that he's not saying no, just slowing me down. Not wanting to see me crash and burn. A question in his gaze, a reply already on my tongue. One by one my wits come back to me, and I realize that _oh_ \- this is not the place. Not here, on the public beach.

"What I said earlier..." I say at last, "forget it. I don't deserve your mercy."

"No, not my mercy," he says, and there is something in his eyes that tells me there is more meaning to his words than I can understand, "but you do deserve my gratitude." I laugh, a choked, hopeful sound. He holds me close, foreheads together once more. "Oh, Yuuri. You are a saint."

But I am not a saint. I open my mouth to protest, but the salt of his tears stain my cheeks, startling me to silence. Before, I could ignore the unspoken thing between us, pretend I just had a crush and that he was not interested in the way I was. But now, with the truth so blatantly staring me down, the evidence of his feelings rolling over my face and drying on the sand, there is nothing I can do but accept it. Not think about why or how but cherish it, this gift he’s giving me. The lifeline he’s extended.

So I remain quiet and I hold him, thinking to myself the truth that he does not need to hear: I was more in love with him than he could possibly ever believe. That I would dive headfirst into dark water to protect him. That I was not a saint, I was a sinner. And I wanted to sin again and again and again.

**Author's Note:**

> _[Find me on tumblr!](http://principalcellist.tumblr.com/) _
> 
> _[Bean me, friends :)](https://ko-fi.com/A3231X6S) _


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